


I'll Take You Back to the Start

by l10nelmessi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l10nelmessi/pseuds/l10nelmessi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The doorbell rang. He cursed as he got up to answer it.</p><p>He opened the door to find Villa. Oh. </p><p>He wasn’t so tired anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take You Back to the Start

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt on fbk2 a while ago: "Messilla with a dominant in bed Leo for the first time ever." 
> 
> title is taken from the song "the scientist" by coldplay.

**_3 years ago_**  
  
It had been a particularly infuriating day for Leo. Hercules. They’d lost to fucking Hercules, a nobody team, their first game of the season and Pep told them it was okay but to Leo, it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t okay, after the perfect season they had just finished. He thought the match over and over in his head, tried to find out what went wrong, but the strange thing was that he couldn’t – he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them that day. No one could.  
  
“Leo, it’s okay, don’t worry.” Xavi’s voice, set and determined, sounded from somewhere next to him. He put a hand on Leo’s shoulder and Leo had to try very hard not to throw it off. “Only the first game of the season, remember?  _La Lliga es molt i molt llarga_  – there’s still a long way left in the league, like Pep always says."  
  
“I know,” Leo admitted, “but, I mean…that was so fucking stupid. It shouldn’t have happened.” He shoves his shirt into his locker. Xavi half-smiles from next to him.  
  
“We’ve lost worse, you know. We’ll lose sometimes, it happens.” Leo opened his mouth to say something, but Xavi held up his hand, as if he knew what Leo was going to say already. He probably did. “I’m not saying we should make losing a habit. But with you on our team, Leo…how could we? You’ll win it next time. We will.”  
  
Leo let out a small smile at that, and he could practically feel himself blushing. He put on his shirt to hide his face a little. “Thanks,” he said, his voice muffled by cotton.  
  
“Any time,  _enano_.” Leo rolled his eyes, but he did feel a little better. Leave it to Xavi.  
  
+  
  
But when he got home, all the negative thoughts came rushing back at him full force, alone in the quiet dark of his house. He made his way to the couch, but he didn’t turn the TV on. He just wanted to sleep. He was tired. Tired of everything. Exhausted.  
  
The doorbell rang. He cursed as he got up to answer it.  
  
He opened the door to find Villa. Oh.   
  
He wasn’t so tired anymore.  
  
He and Villa knew each other pretty well now, each having taken to the other quite quickly during training sessions and the pre-season. Ultimately they just ended up messing around; hurried touches in the changing room alone or pulled into a room off the tunnel after matches. So when Leo opened the door and let Villa in, after that horrendous match today, he knew what was going to happen before anyone even moved.  
  
Villa closed the door behind himself, and Leo shoved him up against it, pressing his mouth insistently to Villa’s. He loved it, that surprise that he always felt from Villa when they did this, the little gasp he let out as Leo bit down on his lower lip just like  _that_ , just the way Villa liked it. Leo turned them around, pushed on Villa’s shoulders to let him know where he wanted Villa to go, and Villa knew, of course he did.  
  
“Fucking  _Hercules_ , though,” Leo mumbled as Villa undid his belt.  
  
“We’ll fucking crush them into the dust next time,” Villa promised, shoving Leo’s jeans down his thighs, and he sounded just as angrily determined as Leo felt. “We will. You and me, we’ll destroy everything together. You’ll see.”

And Leo believed him, he believed the words pouring from Villa’s lips and he drank them up like a starving man would drink water. Villa pulled off his shirt, and pulled Leo’s off for him, so they were both left in their boxers. He kissed down Leo’s body until he was on his knees in front of him again. Leo hissed as Villa traced his tongue along the deep-set V of his obliques.  
  
“Fucking hell, Villa. Get up.” Leo pulled him into the bedroom, and when they had everything ready and Villa was on his hands and knees in front of him, practically begging him to just  _do it_  already, Leo pushed into him for the first time.  
  
Villa let out a long moan and pushed back against Leo, trying to get more. Leo held onto his hips, began to move in and out of him slowly, to tease him. “God, you're so tight," he whispered, and Villa's breath quickened underneath him. "Bet you like that, yeah?”  
  
“Yes,” Villa gasped, “ _yes,_  fuck, just – harder, Leo, please harder—”  
  
“You want it harder?” he asked, pushing all the way into Villa in one movement. Villa yelled out, leaned his head against one of Leo’s pillows.  
  
“Again, please, again,” he panted, and Leo obliged, setting a pace that left them both breathless.  
  
“Why couldn’t you score today? Huh, Villa?” Leo asked quietly, after he turned them so Villa was on his back. Leo wasn’t one to talk much normally, but he loved talk during sex, and Villa knew it. He was trying to work Villa up.  
  
“Why couldn’t  _you_ , golden boy?” Villa panted. Leo pinned Villa’s hands by his head. He held onto each of Villa’s hands with one of his own, linking their fingers together.  
  
“I’d have thought,” Leo muttered, ignoring his comment and holding onto his hands a little harder, “that you coming here meant more goals. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re losing your touch—”  
  
“Shut up,” Villa growled, “shut the fuck up—”  
  
Leo smirked. “Maybe we deserved to lose,” he whispered, leaning down close to Villa’s ear, “because of us. You should’ve done something.”  
  
“F – fuck you, Messi—”  
  
Villa arched up as Leo let go of one of his hands to wrap his own around Villa’s cock. Villa’s fingers tangled in his long hair, pulling him closer. He watched Villa come undone underneath him, watched him completely unravel at the slightest flick of his wrist or movement of his tongue on Villa's skin. He loved this, being totally in control of everything, fucking Villa harder, making him beg for it.  
  
“Fuck – come here—” Villa pulled him down, pressed their lips together shakily, desperately. Leo pulled back, braced his hands on either side of Villa’s shoulders, and threw his head back as he pounded into him.  
  
“God, I’m gonna – Guaje, I’m about to—”  
  
“You’re so good, Leo,” Villa moaned out, pulling him close again. Leo touched their foreheads together, and with Villa’s hands in his hair, Villa’s face so close to his, their bodies so in sync, it was just like they were on the pitch again.   
  
Maybe not scoring today didn’t matter so much anymore, now that he had Villa alone with him in his bed, muffling the strangled moans that left Leo’s mouth with his lips. He curled his fingers in Leo’s hair, pulling at it, and he arched off the bed as he came, hard, onto Leo’s hand.  
  
+

 ** _Now_**  
  
“I’m sorry I left.” David’s voice sounds out in the dark close to him, when they’re both lying sleepy and sated in David’s bed in Madrid. His head is resting on Leo’s chest and he softly traces patterns on Leo’s stomach with the tip of his finger, as if trying to draw the distance between them into Leo’s skin. He doesn’t need to – Leo feels it enough.  
  
“Stop apologising. It’s been months.”  
  
David sighs. “I miss you.”  
  
“I’m right here.”  
  
“You know what I mean.” David sits up, smiles down at Leo. “Remember that first game against Hercules?”  
  
“It’s blurry, with what happened afterwards,” Leo mumbles, and David laughs and kisses his smile.  
  
“You’ve changed,” David says softly against his lips, then he pulls back to look at Leo. He runs a hand gently through Leo’s hair, cut short now. Leo supposes David’s right, about a lot of things.  
  
“So have you. You’ve gotten older, if that’s even possible.”  
  
“Hey, shut up,” David laughs, pushing at Leo’s bare shoulder. “In just a couple years you’ll be my age. Then we’ll see who the old one is.”  
  
“It’ll still be you.”  
  
“Would you still love me if I were old?”  
  
“No,” Leo says, but his laugh gives him away, and when David leans down to kiss his forehead, Leo pulls him down so their lips meet.  
  
“Don’t want you to go back,” David mumbles sleepily as he presses his lips lazily to the skin of Leo’s neck. “Want you to stay here with me.”  
  
And Leo would give David everything, he would bring the world to its knees for David, but he can’t say anything this time, no matter how badly he wants to. Because Leo is Barça and Barça is Leo, he lives and breathes and dreams in blaugrana and he needs to stay, he could never leave. So when he kisses David again, David just sighs and mutters, “I know.”  
  
And Leo loves him more than anyone he’s ever loved.


End file.
